


oh no

by anoinee



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-06-01 08:38:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15139319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anoinee/pseuds/anoinee
Summary: "Don't do anything stupid," Chris said."Okay," Piers nodded.He lied.





	oh no

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a July the first thing, but have some of my randomness anyway because this is definitely a crack fic
> 
> hope you enjoy this trash c:

"Alright, I'll be going then," Chris announced as he turned to face his partner with a sincere smile. He reached out his hand to cup ragged skin, in which Piers responded by nuzzling onto it with a sleepy look in his eyes. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

"Okay," he whispered while blinking away the haze in his eyes to get a clear view of his captain. It worked for a while, but eventually his eyelids were giving up on him again.

Disrupting Piers' sleeping schedule was a bad idea. Then again, both of them are filled with those, so was there even a problem to begin with? "Don't do anything stupid when you're with Claire, alright?"

"Mkay."

"There's more snacks in the pantry if ever you finished last week's grocery, but I don't think there's any more Lays in there. Either way, I already prepared some meals for you in the fridge. You know the drill."

"'Kay."

"And call me if you need anything. Food, company, or whatever floats on your boat. I'll try my best to get back to you." 

Silence. 

Did he just sleep?

"Piers?"

"Hmm? What?" Yep, he did. It's cute though even if he's infected, but hey, it's still Piers. No complaints over here.

"Nevermind," Chris chuckled as he pulled the ace closer and embraced him. The response from the sniper was instinctive: he slung his arms— both heavily scarred and normal— around the huge frame of his officer and nuzzled his face on the crook of Chris's neck. "Love you."

"Love you, too," Piers mumbled back despite his voice being muffled due to the confined space. 

Chris pulled away yet his hands never left the sniper's shoulders— both normal and twisted. As Piers struggled to maintain his awakeness, Chris said, "Go get some rest. Knowing you and Claire, you won't be able to get any sleep at all."

"Got'cha," Piers nodded, bobbing his head twice as if he's drunk this whole time. The lieutenant spun around, staggering to the flight of stairs and taking small, careful steps on his ascension. 

Chris had kept an eye on the ace throughout his whole shenanigans until Piers hopelessly flopped on their bed, unconscious. The captain suppressed down the urge to snort at the sight and instead shook his head. What exactly did the virus do to this guy? He didn't know. The obvious answers there were lethargy and _abso-fucking-lute_ gluttony. The rest were left unknown.

Well, time to leave and spend his ass on an office chair with Command yelling at him for late submissions even though the date today was supposed to be meant for him to stay with his partner.

_July the first, huh? Time flies so fast..._

With that being said, Chris descended down the stairs, pausing slightly when a knock was elicited from the door. Confused and not knowing who the hell would come here knocking on six in the morning, Chris blandly opened the door, just to be greeted by his redheaded sister carrying a duffel bag.

"Claire?" Dumbfounded, Chris asked, "Shouldn't you be here around nine?"

"Yeah," she answered with a nonchalant shrug, "but I figured you need me to watch over him anyway since you're working and all that."

What a valid answer.

"Fine, so what's with the bag? You two going somewhere?"

The look she gave him was an incredulous one. "What? Nah, it's food for Piers! 

_Thank God,_ his wallet screamed in a figurative way. 

"Thanks for that," Chris remarked with relief before making way for his sister. He closed the door behind him, canceling the idea of leaving just for this moment of conversation.

"It's no problem," she hollered, placing her bag on the coffee table with ease. "It's nice to see him having an appetite again, even if it does go overboard. I'm just surprised he didn't gain any weight with how much he's been eating lately."

If Piers was awake, he would definitely be offended by that one. He would certainly pout and retort but would never consider punching the lights out of Claire, just like he used to do to Andy when his jokes trespassed personal boundaries. The good old days.

Either way, Chris laughed, only lowering it slightly as to not awaken his partner in his bedroom. "He burns it off at night like he always does."

"Mhm," the sister mused and spun around her heel to face her brother with a teasing smirk, "So where's your charming prince right now?

Chris smirked, "Sleeping." 

"Definitely charming," Claire chortled before faking her whine, "Now what am I supposed to do? Sleep, too?"

Chris flicked her forehead with his finger, earning him a pitiful "ow" and a playful punch to his arm. He just laughed, glad that this was how his morning started unlike other days. "I don't know with you. Just do whatever you feel like doing."

"Don't get mad at me when something's broken then," she joked, only to be the receiving end on having her hair ruffled by a calloused palm. "Hey! Don't ruin my hair! I've spent ages on that!"

"Ages?" Amused by her exaggeration and, of course, her attempts in breaking away from Chris' hold, the older of the two continued nonetheless.

"Okay, not ages," she huffed, raising her arms in defense as soon as she successfully managed to escape from the "foul play". "But you get the idea!"

"Whatever you say," he rolls his eyes, but in the process of doing so, he catches the glimpse of the current time. "Well, looks like I have to go." 

"See you when you come back then, bro." 

Chris smiled warmly, which his sister casually reciprocated back. The similarity between them is quite obvious when they do that. "You, too,"

It was normal for them to embrace each other before leaving to whatever they're supposed to go. Was it a Redfield tradition? Probably. Any comfort in this god-forsaken world, riddled with bioterrorism, will do actually.

Now, as Chris walked off his own apartment, it was time for Claire to do her job. 

Or maybe later. It's six in the goddamn morning anyway. What's the harm in resting some more before the real event will happen? Just as long as the group had prepared prior the days before today, nothing bad was going to happen.

* * *

**Monday, July 1, 2018, 8:04 A.M.**

 

**Claire:** So, how's everyone doing?

**Sherry:** Pretty bad, actually.

**Jake:** what? na, Sher and I are doing pretty great 

**Claire:** What happened?

**Jake:** let's just say we forgot to buy something. 

**Sherry:** Apparently Jake bought the alcohol but not the food  >:v

**Claire:** Why the hell did you forget about the food? Do you want us to starve?

**Jake:** Jesus Christ, it's not my problem the pup has some serious eating issues

**Claire:** Can't blame you for that, I guess lol

**Sherry:** Still though, Jake, is there anything else you prioritize other than beer?

**Jake:** you, babe ;)

**Sherry:** ew no

**Jake:** tf—

**Claire:** HAHA, Sherry, my girl, I'm so proud :')

**Sherry:** Just kidding, Jake c:

**Sherry:** I learned from the best :DDD

**Helena:** Sweet Jesus, didn't think you guys will be up this early

**Claire:** Don't worry about it. Piers is still asleep anyway : >

**Helena:** Thank god, here I thought I'll be late for the hangout

**Sherry:** Speaking of Piers, what kind of food does he like?

**Jake:** does he like anything that has "captain" in it

**Claire:** lmao yes

* * *

"Jake, we are _not_ buying him Cap'n Crunch." 

"What? Why?"

"Because," Sherry huffed, conflicted whether she should be amused and join in with the joke or be annoyed and buy something that the former lieutenant actually likes. "he might not like it!"

"Claire confirmed it though," Jake defended. 

"Well," she sighed, "we can buy one."

Two boxes were thrown into the cart. "Make that two."

"Jake!"

"What?" He emphasized, "It's on sale! Let's make it count, babe!"

There really wasn't a way to fight this guy. Still, she smiled before facing the other stocks in the shelves for a suitable snacks to munch on for the rest of the day, "Okay, fine, we'll get him two."

"Meh, let's make it five."

"Oh God, Jake, please—"

* * *

**Helena:** I got the meds for the hangovers, painkillers, and stomach aches. All over-the-counter. 

**Helena:** But for the record, I'm bringing in extra ingredients in case Sherry runs out of them for meals

**Claire:** Anything for desserts there? Cuz homemade cookies sound good for today

**Helena:** Got you covered

**Claire:** Sweet! I got old board games and cards we can use to play when we're sober. I have no idea what's going to happen when we're drunk though kek

**Helena:** Who was the one bringing in the drinks, again? 

**Claire:** Jake

**Jake:** it's good shit. trust me

**Helena:** "trust me," he says before he gets lost after a night out in a club

**Jake:** stfu

**Sherry:** It's okay guys. I did the checking to make sure it wasn't that stronk

**Claire:** "stronk"

**Sherry:** s t r o n g :cccccc

_Jake's nickname has been set to Jarhead_

**Claire:** holy shit, who did that HAHA

**Jarhead:** whometh the fuck

**Helena:** that's fucking beautiful rofl

**Sherry:** wait, you can set nicknames this whole time???

**Piers:** hi xd

**Claire:** Look who's up lmao

**Helena:** About damn time you woke up :v

**Jarhead:** you little piece of shit, you're dead to me

**Piers:** ok

_Jarhead's nickname has been set to Jarhead the Bread_

**Jarhead the Bread:** fuck you too, man

**Piers:** <3

* * *

**9:05 A.M.**

"You feeling okay?" Claire asked, never bothering to look up at Piers for her attention was solely focused on the sandwich she's making for the both of them. 

"Mhm," Piers hummed his reply, caramel hair drenched from the quick shower he had taken not too long ago. He wore comfortable clothes, to say the least, yet still he wore long-sleeved turtleneck shirts to hinder away the scars, even if they're less noticeable compared to before. 

They were both stationed in the kitchen, with Claire by the counter making the sandwiches and Piers sitting on one of the chairs, taking a sip of his usual latte. It was peaceful, so to speak. 

"You think you can make it through the day without passing out on us?" As soon as she had finished topping the sandwich with the final loaf of bread, she fetched a knife to cut the food diagonally. Thankfully, the edge of it was still sharp, therefore leaving a clean cut to the bread. 

"I can handle myself," Piers snorted, his gaze peering outside the window, eyeing the birds that were perched comfortably on a branch. The woods was a pretty sight, especially early in the morning and around midnight. There were many reasons as to why Chris had moved into this home, a shelter that was miles away from civilization and close to the woodlands, and the sight was certainly one of them. "Besides, I doubt Jake will let me sleep anyway."

"Fair point," Claire replied back, placing the slices on separated plates and handing one of them to Piers. "How's life with Chris?"

"Thanks," he automatically said. "Pretty fine."

"I'm sensing a 'but' there."

"Just hoping we'll get to spend more time with each other. Our schedule's conflicting. Literally," he finished by wolfing down on his share. 

"I can convince him to take a day-off if that's what you want."

"You don't necessarily have to." 

"But it's what you want, right?"

"It's just," a sigh, "I want to have my normal schedule back, not when I have to be up around night because the virus wanted me to."

"Why did you become nocturnal anyway? I've never encountered viruses that affected sleeping cycle, well, not on my line of work and/or previous encounters."

"I need to run." 

"Run?" She finally looked up, confused. "Run from what?"

"I don't know," Piers shrugged, brows furrowed as he glared at the warm hue of his latte. "It's kinda like a feeling when you're pumped in adrenaline. You need to do something with all the energy, so in my case, I run."

"So, you run around the house at night?" That's an interesting thought.

"The woods," he corrected. 

"Does Chris know you're out there every night?"

"He does," he paused. "Let's not talk about this anymore. It feels like therapy."

Somewhat reluctant in doing so, Claire eventually nodded, "If you say so."

Several knocks were enacted from the living room, accompanied by the boisterous voice of ~~Jarhead the Bread~~ Jake Muller: "Open up or I'll kick this door down!"

"Jake!"

"I'm just kidding, Babe, but seriously, let us in!"

With their attentions back at each other, the redhead felt a grin creeping up her lips. "Well, are you ready?"

Piers smirked, "Ready when you are."

* * *

**9:45 A.M.**

"Hey, Twinkle Toes," Jake sneered over Piers' direction while Sherry and Claire were busy chattering like birds. 

"Jarhead the Bread," the ace returned with an indifferent tone in his voice and a challenging glint in his eyes. Unlike Jake and Sherry, they never did get along. 

"Oh boy, drama in the morning," Helena, ever the commentary, passed by them with sarcasm envenomed. 

"Drop the nickname, will ya, puppy?" 

"You started it, Asshat."

"Hey, you two! We get it; talking shit is a hobby, but not in this house." Helena mused as she slung the bags down to the floor, along with the others. 

"Who says this is your house, woman?" Jake countered. 

Before Helena could even open her mouth, Claire went ahead to stop the argument altogether. "Jake, how many booze did you bring?"

"2 packs!" Jake answered before openly scowling at the sniper. "We're not done, you hear me?"

Piers merely smirked and shrugged off his threat mockingly.

Suddenly, a wild Sherry appeared out of nowhere, with a rolled newspaper in hand, and slapped Jake with the said item. 

"Hey, what was that for, babe?" He whined.

"Be nice!" Like a mother, she scolded. 

"It's fine, Sherry," Piers stated, catching the attention of the only blonde in the room. "We're just playing around." 

"Really?" She eyed them both suspiciously, which was kinda adorable considering she looked youthful and all.

"Yeah, it's just a men's thing to, you know, banter around and insulting each other," Jake explained, still rubbing the spot his little partner had attacked him.

Somewhere in the room, Helena scoffed at the excuse. Claire was simply entertained and jothing more.

"Okay," again, Claire interrupted, "we'll drink a bottle later. Right now, Piers need to pick a bag."

"Bag?" Piers darted a confused look towards Claire, to the bags laid around the coffee table, then back to Claire again. "What for?"

"Choose your food," Claire supplied. "Pick two bags so—"

"But not these two," Helena voiced out, patting two certain bags beside her. "They're for cooking."

"Yeah, thanks for that," the redhead resumed, "just pick two bags then the rest of us will have whatever you didn't take."

"You can take Sherry's bag," Jake said, smirking, "She bought great food for ya."

Obviously Piers became suspicious about that one and asked Sherry for confirmation through eye contact.

"It's from both of us, actually," Sherry stated, "but it's more of mine than his, so, yeah."

"Just pick!" Helena called out from the couch, which wasn't too far away from the coffee table and the rest of the group.

The former lieutenant shook his head from all their shenanigans and stared blankly at the bags. 

The choice was simple.

Really simple.

He took all of them and made a mad dash out of the house.

From a great distance, he heard Jake's bellow, "That hoe, what the fuck—"

* * *

**Someone broke the clock— not sure who though, but someone replaced the broken clock by taping Jake's phone on the wall.**

**It's nearing 4 in the afternoon, by the way, or at least what Jake's phone said.**

First thing first: environment description.

Chris will definitely be pissed. 

Second objective: remaining number of drinks Jake brought for the party.

None.

Third objective: state of the people present within the kitchen.

 

"Leah!" Sherry slurred, her voice cracked from constant usage. Regardless of this, in her desperate attempts to reach out to "Leah," she stumbled over pots and pans clattered all over the floor and over her unintelligible words as well. 

Helena, apparently now dubbed as Leah, scowled, staring at her burnt batch of molded things resting on a tray. "What do you want?"

"You said," the blonde started, tripping over her words and footing thanks to all the clustered shit sprawled all over the floor. Nevertheless, she poked her finger at one of the slimy mixture, whining "we'd make a batch of cookies! Why are there only four?"

Correction: there were five molded "cookies" on the tray. 

"Because," Helena grumbled under her breath, eyes hazy under the influence of whatever the hell Jake bought for them. Honestly, Helena looked rather intimidating, if it wasn't for the fact that she suddenly lost consciousness and landed on the mess-of-floor with a loud thump.

"Because what, Leah?!" Sherry shrieked, falling to her knees and shaking the now unconscious form of the woman. Looks like a certain someone's emotional when drunk. "Don't go dying on me now! I want my cookies!" No answer. Of course. "Well?! Answer me!"

No response. 

"Fine, be that way!" Sherry huffed, aggravated, as she unceremoniously dropped the woman back to the ground. She stood up with her arms crossed. "It's not like I need your- oh hey, is that spaghetti?"

Fourth objective: state of people within the living room.

"Keep lying, you sons of bitches," Jake taunted, holding half of one deck in his hands. "It's not like I don't have half the cards with me or anything."

Claire snorted as she broke into laughter. "That's because you suck at it in the first place!" She threw a card on the coffee table without whatsoever grace. "One king."

Piers was oddly quiet, yet that didn't stop him from participating anyway. He threw all three of his cards on the table, claiming: "Three aces."

"Bullshit!" Jake called, swiftly flipping the cards Piers laid within a blink of an eye. True to his word, it was, in fact, three aces. Again, Jake repeated the word, threw his hand in his fit of rage, and stormed off to the kitchen.

"Yay, you won," Claire congratulated dumbly and like Jake, threw her cards to the air. A quick hiccup escaped her lips; even then, that didn't stop her from rambling on. "So, what do we do next?"

"Dunno..." Came from the brunette. 

"No, we gotta do sam-something! It's a party! We need some activities!" Claire sighed. She flipped herself upside down with her feet pointing towards the ceiling and her head hanging on the edge couch out of boredom. "Want to play another round, Piers?"

She had no idea what noise Piers made. Presumably it was a no, but her mind registered it as a yes. "Actually, no, BS is pretty dumb. I'll think of what to do next. Just watch!" She paused. "Wanna make some bombs?"

A barely inaudible answer was given, "You want to destroy your brother's home?" 

"Don't tell me the great Piers Nivans is backing away from a challenge," she pestered.

"Okay, fine, let's do it."

* * *

"We interrupt this program to bring you this important announcement from the NWS. We would like to advise all citizens to supply their homes with important essentials— canned goods, flashlights, batteries, etc.— for the incoming hurricane next week."

So much for that hiking plan with Piers next week.

With his car parked by the driveway, Chris took this moment of silence as a breather. Most of his paperworks were completed anyway, for the sake of having to spend some more time with Piers next week. Then the weather report came and it was obviously time to change plans. 

On second thought, he can think about it tomorrow. With that being set in mind, Chris set foot off the vehicle and walked up to his door. A key was all it took to unlock it, but Chris wasn't expecting a barricade on the other side.

He frowned and pushed the door harder this time. A faint groan rose, which alerted the captain. As soon as he step indoors, he turned around to find an unconscious Piers slumped against the wall.

He noticed two things about his lover: he reeked of booze and he was a fucking mess. 

"Piers?" Chris softly called out and knelt in front of the sniper. With a hand outstretched, he gently cupped the chin of his partner, taking note of the eerie rise in temperature. "Piers, you okay?"

Thankfully he was still breathing. That erased one dreadful possibility in his list, but the question remained firm: what happened to him? _Where's Claire?_

A quick look around his place provided enough answers for every questions he had in mind.

That settled it: he'll call off tomorrow morning just to make sure Claire and the rest fixed his place. 

So, in the end, all those extra efforts at work did come in handy after all. 

"Chris?" The voice was soft, uncharacteristic yet understandable at the same time because of the given situation.

"Hey, you," the captain said, caressing marred skin with featherweight touches that did not complement the brute strength he actually possessed. 

"You're home." 

"Yeah, I am."

"I'm glad." 

"Can you move?" 

"I think so." Mismatched eyes remained shut despite the attempts on standing up; nevertheless, Chris assisted him anyway. "Where we going?"

"Somewhere comfortable," Chris reassured. He lead his dazed partner to their bedroom upstairs, cautious in his footing and grip on Piers. After the stairs, the task became simpler; it was only the matter of changing his clothes that Chris was able to finally be cushioned by the mattress.

Spontaneously, a weight settled itself beside him as tanned arms snaking around the captain's wide torso. "I miss you."

"Miss you, too," Chris exchanged, gazing at the beautifully marred feature of his sleeping lover. It seemed almost perfect were it not for the stench and the disheveled appearance. Regardless, he pulled the sniper closer to him, preparing himself for the day that has yet to come. 

It's going to be fun tomorrow— that's for sure.


End file.
